silhouette of sails breezed through the twilight hour,
the working man was long aroused from his sleep,

long strips of inked paper billowed out into the dank alley,
infused with the rotten aroma of yesterday.

the paper-thin veil draped over the construction site,
the working men had their silhouettes enslaved to the sheet,

an arrow of shadow shot through the muted screen of the cinema,
a line of laundry zigzagged the sky overhead, ******* pages of blue,

the rickshaw man was crossing stairs,
toeing winding train tracks, children nimbly dashed past danger

a fisherman was dreaming of secret deluges,
he would oar his way through the overflown streets, catching a dim sum box or two

a seagull fixed its hungry gaze on you, chewing stick
you leaned on the cart you have been pushing, facing habour

1
Navigating through liquid crowds
in this city map of rooting veins.
With only a single eye, left, open,
capture every drop as it remains
seeping into pedestrian subways.
Neon flyers flutter for today.

There is a hint of salt in the air.

Faceless individuals, they never ask
but somehow they always know.

2
Silent assemblies
at school when we refused to sing;
on the streets we learn
to breathe through toxic chemical overkill
and politics and chemistry
and physics and geography.
And humanities.

We held green tickets for the first time,
not for conventional reasons,

but as an unspoken goodbye.

3
Find comfort in being overshadowed
by trees, by skyscrapers, by people,
yet we speak when need be
to whom
must listen
when we discard our reserved nature
within or against the same brick walls
at home or across the oceans.

They ask you about your hometown
They ask you what this poem is about
Say “it’s complicated”,

* * * * *   * * *   * * * * * * *   * * * * *   * * * *   * * * *   * * *

Hong Kong China crunch
clash of ideologies—
iron mixed with clay

The city is melting in the screams
In the dead of night,
From thick skins to thin skins, 
So accustomed to fearful, bloodied scenes 

As you walk through or past 
blinking in the putrid smokes rising up like an atom explosion  
compelling you to gouge your eyes out 
or rip the flesh off your bones 
You're knocked out in a floundering hill of carcass 

I was there 
I was scared 

Unidentifiable in the crowd adorned with courage
As my people should be 
They targeted me anyway
Emptying the barrel of a dozen revolvers
Hundreds of black-clad Darth Vaders 
besieged my space once taken to be safe 

Gone are those days entrusting 'law and order'
unmasking itself as a little less human 
cutting innocent lives shorter and shorter 
learning that it's after all a shape-shifting demon 

"When I grow up I want to serve in the plice
Fools, you see what they want you to see 
A provocation or condemnation 
And they give you a taste of merciless damnation 

My people play no part in the conflict 
And yet. The demons in blue and green 
orchestrate and construct minefields to **** 
And yet. We don't plan to forfeit 

I say 'We' on behalf of journalists 
I say 'people' on behalf of journalists 
also happen to be People with Emotions 
Finding middle ground when the earth under your feet 
crumbles. Living in Commotion

Power-hungry bodies are dark voids during a war 
because money buys protection 
because status breeds greed 
Empowered bodies are overcome during a war 
because all they feel is pain and fury 
of measures shaking them to the burning core 

They fired shots after shots 
manhandling our right to exist 
Our weapon of choice is the pen
we'll show them
tyranny is so close to its end

Is it discriminatory to hate
the fungus that can spread in the bodies of ants.
Creeping
through the nerves
infecting
until it scrapes through the cerebral nerve
driving them mad
climbing the heights of rainforest giants
which they can’t get back down from.
When it takes their mind,
Are they now the same?

Is it discrimination,
If I **** the select black pages of a book that tumble along the desert winds, their words cursing those
under the God.
For those in letterboxes, I have a message: do you want to be defined by your value as a possession?

Is it discrimination,
To wish us rid of those who will condemn our humour and joy,
for it is a sign of humanity.
On online forums that do not have to except a human flood and a culture crushed to single metal pieces,
Will not except a yellow glutton carnivore
as president,
Will not except the red and blue beams from the sun being darkened by a night-black swarm of red and yellow striped wasps,
the vibrant joy of star fruit now as constructing as imperial gold.

Speak,
Rid your bike,
Shine your light
For Tiananmen is abroad.
Location decided not by a treaty,
But by those who cling to a rising sun,
Not shineless stars.

It's not
like the movies, or shows
the books and the novels.
hollywood's way of
cheesy gimmicks.
It's not
like the Hunger Games!
Where people are injected
with sweet venom of
credulous lies.
Where 2 tributes disappears.
Every year.
Because,
right now, right here,
we have more.

It is 2053.
Promises long gone.
Contracts expired and
conspiracy failed.
Betrayed.
Lied to.
Indoctrinated.
Abandoned.
Hands over heads.
We, at the mercy of
the Red Dragon.
His highness roams.
We, losing our grasps,
collapsing.

I dreamed a home of peace,
safe, with freedom.
But it crumpled into
a million pieces.
No more teases.
When they had won.

Some people fled.
Unbearable of
the roads, tainted red.
They got lucky.
But I'm just a fuming middle aged
worthless powerless whatshername.
Talk about pity.

"I'm young!"
But you'll grow old.
And I tell you of this.
I warn you of this!
Because I see it
so clearly,
so vividly,
in your eyes.
I see no future of us.
Just our minds twisted.
Blood and gore mixed
with all that we witnessed.
Just healthy looking robots.
Patriotic robots.
Who has forgotten
everything.